


What Can Go Wrong at a Birthday Party?

by excuseme_howdareyou



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Party, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Gen, Hal is a dead man, It's Bruce's birthday and he's getting a party whether he likes it or not, Tumblr Prompt, birthday shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excuseme_howdareyou/pseuds/excuseme_howdareyou
Summary: Tumblr prompt: JLA birthday party for Batman, but at the manor. Who gets drunk? Who can't? Who earns [the] Alfred look of disapproval?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	What Can Go Wrong at a Birthday Party?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, but this may have gone past 'Look of Disapproval' to straight 'You're Gonna Die Look'.
> 
> For @acookiesnmilkuniverse

"Oh no..." Dick said without moving his lips. That stunning Grayson smile never left his lips, but to those who knew him best, it was more akin to a grimace than a smile. His fingers tightened around the red cup in his hand, the drink inside threatening to spill over the edges. "Don't look-"

The 'but' went without saying, as clear as the warning he'd stated, but did that stop them? No, it did not. In unison, Tim and Steph turned their heads to look where Dick had been staring. In an effort to minimize the attention to the situation, Dick threw an arm around Tim's shoulders and steered his gaze away before he could see.

The sound of running footsteps faded up the stairs. 

As much as Dick tried though, he could not stop Steph in time. "It's just Hal running up the stairs," she said and turned back with a frown," What's the 'oh no' for?" Far as she knew, he was making a beeline for the restroom after drinking whatever concoction Barry bet him to chug in the kitchen.

This time, the expression on Dick's face was _definitely_ a grimace. "He came stumbling out of the kitchen and bumped into the curio cabinet," he explained," He panicked, picked up the pieces, and ran upstairs."

Steph's head whipped back around, now knowing it was the _curio cabinet_ that drew Dick's attention. However, she didn't spy any broken glass right away, either on the shelves or the floor beneath. "Pieces of _what_?" she asked. 

Dick reluctantly let Tim go. "Tim," he sighed," Tell me what you see missing." After his brother's arm fell away from his shoulders, Tim peered past Steph and towards the cabinet full of pictures and memorabilia just outside the kitchen entrance. Like Stephanie, he didn't see any broken glass, but it only took a few seconds of scanning the shelves' contents to spot the empty space. 

"Oh no..." he went pale.

The grimace was now a look of grim realization. "Oh no is right," Dick agreed. 

"What?" Steph demanded," What's missing?" But neither brother acknowledged her demands, instead exchanging worried glances.

"Think he'll know to use epoxy instead of superglue?" Tim asked. 

"Barry would know to. Hal? Not a chance in hell."

* * *

Clark _thought_ he heard a thud and some quiet cursing a moment after Hal stumbled out of the kitchen, spluttering and spitting at the taste in his mouth. But whatever he ran into couldn't have been too bad; he didn't hear any glass breaking. And besides, he was too busy giving Barry a disapproving look. Barry, who flashed his teeth victoriously and poured himself another shot of Pa Kent's homemade apple pie. "My birthday's in March..." he was saying,"...if you want to let Pa know. Don't even have to give me a party, just a bottle of this sweet stuff."

Clark was across the kitchen and yanking the bottle away in a second. "You don't _get_ a bottle of Pa's apple pie," he told Barry in no uncertain terms," Not after you spiked Hal's drink with _anise_." Anise, of all things. The flavor of black licorice and no one's favorite candy.

Barry wasn't too heartbroken over the lost bottle, throwing back the shot he'd already poured and grinning madly. He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, Bruce is the one who has pastis in his cupboard," he defended," What kind of man has anise flavored liquor and _doesn't_ expect it to be used?"

"That doesn't mean you pour a bunch into another man's drink."

"Diana's drinking some."

Diana was indeed drinking some pastis, though hers was watered down into an apertif. She sat at the kitchen island with Bruce and J'onn and sipped calmly at her drink. Pastis was a common place apertif in Paris, and she enjoyed the palate cleansing of the bitter flavour, but Diana actually _lived_ in France and Hal enjoyed his drinks on the sweeter side. 

She was also 85% sure Bruce has seen Barry grab the bottle while eyeing Hal's unattended drink, but the man did nothing to stop him. While Clark and Barry argued over the latter's use of the liquor, she nudged the birthday boy's arm with her elbow. When he looked at her with an innocent, questioning expression, she knew he was _such_ a liar. One of her brows went up in reprimand. 

Never breaking eye contact with her, Bruce silently drank his shot of Pa Kent homemade apple pie. He set the empty shotglass back down on the counter without a sound and said," It's _my_ birthday, isn't it?"

Hera grant her the strength to deal with these men...

* * *

"Hey!" Jason's voice hollered over the din, not caring in the least for the conversations currently flowing about the room. Most conversations stalled to a halt upon his shout however, and nearly every turned to see Bruce's second eldest glaring at the curio cabinet next to the kitchen entrance.

"Where's the 'Greatest Grandpa Ever' vase I made for Alfred?" he demanded, bringing to mind a decorative vase that young Jason had made in seventh grade art class. 

Hal gulped when three heads (two dark and one blonde) _immediately_ turned to him with varying looks of pity and/or glee.

* * *

Upstairs, Damian stared at the mess of a vase sitting on the bathroom counter, haphazardly stuck back together and held up by various shampoo bottles so that the broken pieces somewhat aligned. He could see drying white glue in the too wide cracks and deduced it had been left sitting up here so the glue would have time to dry. 

He scowled at the entire thing with disgust. "What kind of imbecile uses _tacky_ _glue_ to fix clay pottery?" he muttered, offended on the behalf of all things art.


End file.
